resfeber
(n.) the tangled feelings of fear and excitement before a journey begins.

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CASSIDY

Okay, I have to admit, the first day wasn't so bad as I thought. You know those cliché stories where the character thinks that everything is going to go horribly wrong but everything turns out perfectly fine? Yeah, I was totally like that, and even though there was a five percent thought inside me saying I could survive, I didn't give time to think of that.

The usual mornings went by today with Hazel desperately pleading for me to wake up, and here I am right now watching the early news and eating some fluffy pancakes topped with strawberries and chocolate syrup.

My serenity is momentarily disrupted by the time a door opens and a stranger walks in. Seriously, we have people guarding the house outside, I have no idea of why this happens.

"Cass!!! Time for the second day of senior high!" a cheerful voice effuses, as a hand snatches the last red strawberry from my plate. Alaine just being Alaine.

"And since when were you so thrilled about school?" I inquire lazily.

"Well, school's pretty awesome if we've got Camille, Lauren, and Skylar!" she beams amusedly.

"So, what am I now, dirt?" I strike, Alaine snickering.

"If you were dirt I wouldn't be here right now!" she defends. I pout, pretending to be unsatisfied.

"Whatever. What time is it anyway? Real, proper classes are starting today and I cannot bear to be late," I inform her.

"We'd be just in time if you stopped eating too much of your food and gave a little to me!" she chirps, attacking for my plate.

That female has enough food to feed herself, she shall not steal! I chew the last bite of the pancake before she can get anything. We walk outside once I'm done, much more confident the the state we were in yesterday.

Apparently, I have only one class with Alaine, which is the Mental Abuse To Humans class, meaning MATH.

Mathematics has been my one enemy ever since I was born. I swear, numbers are not my friends and I'd prefer reading fat books or stringing up sentences rather than facing a never ending problem of digits. Okay, I'll admit that I wasn't purely honest with what I told Gavin at the buffet; I have straight As except for Math.

I don't know if I have subjects with Camille, Lauren, or Skylar, and I don't know about Logan and his friends' classes either. I hate to admit it, but inside there is a teeny tiny, microscopic part of me that is excited for the year to come.

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Picture this; you hear the most hilarious joke, and while drinking your water, you choke on it because of laughing too much.

I am being tortured right now.

After Skylar just said some silly comment about an octopus and squids, someone pokes my waist out of nowhere, making my stomach hurt even harder, and a few drops of water fall from my bottle.

Ugh.

When I finally stop chuckling, my eyes open to see clear blue ones. How can anything be so amazingly perfect?

SNAP OUT OF IT, CASSIDY.

"I was drinking water and someone said something silly, and you choose right now to tickle me?" I retort, narrowing my eyes.

"Be thankful will you, I'm taking you to class," he says, now taking my arm and leading me away from Alaine and my friends as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Go away, butterflies, go away. It's just his arm wrapped around mine, stop increasing, because I don't need you.

"Taking me to class? You don't know my schedule," I say, matter-of-factly.

"English. Ms. Giselle Longton." he states. My lips part in mild surprise.

"How'd you know that?" I imply, but he only leads me through corridors and lockers in silence, until the bell rings on cue and he opens the door for me.

The classroom is half filled, with only a few chairs still empty. I thought Logan was only guiding me to the room, but we both have English together. But sadly, none of my friends have the same subject with me at first period.

I take a seat on the very front, next to the window, because everyone's crowded at the back, and I adore locations that are next to sceneries; they're handy for daydreaming.

I catch a mop of black hair from the corner of my view, and the sound of someone sitting.

And oh god.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Logan's just sat next to me.

Never thought I'd live to see the day that Logan Chase would be beside me at class.

My thoughts are interrupted as a few more students shuffle in, and a woman with short, brownish red hair takes the stage. She has navy blue jeans and a simple red button up t shirt.

She reminds me of Ms. Gwyneth Longton, the natural friendly mood present in each movement.

"Good Morning class, my name is Ms. Giselle Longton, and I will be your English teacher for this year. This is my first time of working at Meadows High School, and I applied once my sister was promoted to vice president," she says amiably, taking a moment to glance at the students as much as she can.

"Now, you all know the regular 'let's get to know each other' occurrences that some of your teachers conduct on the first day of classes. But in my opinion, you don't get to know someone by a laid out introduction of what they like and what they're interested in, because I believe that is earned through spending time together. So I made an activity you all will not forget," she states, clasping her hands together.

When a teacher says something regarding introductions, and things that you will not forget, it's never something good.

She takes a small jar filled with folded white papers, and draws one out. Her eyes darken as she reads whatever is written, but the burst of happiness and color is returned in a while.

She then proceeds to distributing long brown envelopes, instructing us not to peek inside.

And all of a sudden, her tone is rushed and excited, eyes full of amusement.

"Think fast! Last person who doesn't find a partner will be publicly humilliated!" she simpers.

Quicker than the air, I feel an arm slung around my shoulder before I can worry about being paired up.

"You're my partner," Logan states.

And because I am new, I can't do anything but agree and roll my eyes.

"Whatever," I respond flatly.

But inside, I am on the brink of loosing my mind. This is all too good to be true.

"Now, in each of those envelopes is a romantic prose from literature, ranging from classics to the modern young adult books we have. Inside this jar you have just seen are selections of different genres, and I brought out a paper with the word romance," she informs us, showing the slip with clear black writing.

"You can choose any of the two options you and your partner have, and you will act out the scene with your own interpretation of what happened, or read the lines the characters had in the story. You will present it in front of the class momentarily," she declares, sitting back on her chair chirpily.

And only then do the words 'romance' and 'Logan Chase' combine together right in front of me. How is this happening?!

I open my envelope, eyes darting word per word. I've read this book a couple of times already, and it's one of my favorites.

I am not acting out a scene like this with Logan. Not happening, ever.

Denial.

"We're doing yours," he states, throwing away his envelope in the air.

"And why are you the boss?" I growl. "What was the one in your envelope?" I demand fiercely.

"Fifty Shades," he says darkly. I smack him on the shoulder hardly, smiling as he really did get hurt. Finally!

"Okay fine, it's Pride and Prejudice. But who wants to see scenes between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy? They're all just long boring sentences" he utters.

"Take that back, you moron!" I defend. When I was in seventh grade, I thought the same thing of Pride and Prejudice; an exchange of complicated language. But seriously, it's beautiful piece of art that I don't think Logan would understand.

"Okay, okay, I was kidding!" he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair.

"But why can't we do yours instead? I'd rather have long conversations of love and blah blah blah than what's written in mine!" I say.

"You DID get FSOG?" he asks, eyes widening.

I stomp on his brand new Nikes underneath the desks and edge away. Why are all boys so green minded?

"No doofus, this is a school, shut up with that," I chide.

"Okay class, time for the presenting!" Ms. Giselle chirps, taking back the center. I glance at Logan who is happily reading my series of text.

We all know that one rule to never keep eye contact with a teacher if you don't know the answer to a question, or if you don't want to speak up. Well, me being the dumb loony that I am, did in fact keep eye contact with Ms. Giselle.

"Ooh let's start from the very front," she simpers. "And you're name is?" she asks.

"Cassidy French,"

"Logan Chase,"

The woman looks in between us as if trying to figure out something, but her eyes soften and the warmth is returned.

"Okay, class let's watch Cassidy and Logan with their chosen scene," Ms. Giselle announces.

I stand up shakily as Logan shoots me one of his heart-melting smiles. The background isn't very amusing, with girls drooling and making puppy eyes at the boy in front of me. Crazies.

Logan pulls up two chairs beside the teacher's table, and puts them together in front. The scene happens at a beach-like place where the characters are seated on the sand. I take a the seat next to Logan, swinging my left leg over my right to look confident.

How did I agree to do this again?

"I don't know what kind of deal you think you've made with Haymitch, but you should know he made me promises as well." Logan begins, his perfect voice silencing the whole atmosphere of a classroom, teleporting me into a void far far away from reality -- taking me into a world where my dreams exist.

"Why are you saying this now?" I ask, trying my best to imitate the voice of Katniss. The Hunger Games isn't a pure love story, but the chemistry between Katniss and Peeta is priceless.

"Because I don't want you forgetting how different our circumstances are. If you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You're my whole life, I would never be happy again," he recites, lines perfect and acting flawless.

How I wish what he said were true.

He puts a finger to my lips, as Peeta does in the book. His touch sends indescribable energy through my body, making me want to freeze and stop time.

"It's different for you. I'm not saying it wouldn't be hard. But there are other people who'd make your life worth living." he says. "Your family needs you, Katniss," he says.

I draw in a deep breath, as I feel Logan's arm encircle around my wrist.

"I do," I begin. "I need you."

Great. Just great. Now what?

I feel myself nearly fall down the chair at the proximity of our closeness, but his arms are around me before feel my back touch the floor, making me awfully near him, making me lost in the world of his clear blue eyes.

My eyes don't have to scan over the paper to know what happens next.

A kiss.

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Okay, CLIFFHANGER THERE! Ya'll don't know wether they kissed or not, and I'm not telling!

*cue in the evil laugh*

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Thank you so much for reading Utterly Impossible, and for actually still being here for twelve straight chapters -- it means more than you think.